


5 + 1; Cherik

by wxnchesterr



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Beach Divorce (X-Men), Cherik - Freeform, Erik has Issues, Hurt Erik Lehnsherr, Hurts So Good, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Poor Erik, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, slight alteration to the ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:14:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11916813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wxnchesterr/pseuds/wxnchesterr
Summary: fandom: x-men5 times Charles and Erik are helplessly in love; the one time they weren't.





	5 + 1; Cherik

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this started out really cute, but towards the end i,,, yeah, it's the beach divorce (rip) so some angst :') i couldn't help myself, im sORRY. hope you enjoy my two favorite idiots in love
> 
> chapter warnings: other than mild sadness towards the end, none. this is just two lovesick fools who can't help but love each other. also the occasional period-typical homophobia/internalized homophobia (even that is only thought once).

i.

The air around them was still, the hallway quiet. Raven was on a sort of date with Hank, leaving Charles and Erik only in the company of each other. Erik was leaning against a metal wall, his head down. 

"When left to your own devices, you sulk in a hallway?" 

Erik looked up at the familiar and unmistakable British accent, rolling his eyes as soon as he made contact with Charles. 

"I'm not sulking. There's merely nothing to do around here. You scurried off and left me all by my lonesome." 

"Dreadfully sorry, my friend. Had to make sure Raven was alright. Walk with me?" Charles motioned towards the other end of the hallway, which Erik could only assume led to another barren metal room(it seemed that was all the CIA had)or to the outside. Erik hoped for the latter.

Erik stepped away from the wall, nodding and moving into stride with Charles.  
"You're aware that she's an adult, right?" Erik couldn't help but tease; Charles always treated her as if she was a pupil that he needed to teach rather than a friend or an equal.

"Yes, I know that. She's my sister, Erik. I can't help but worry." 

"You're more like an overbearing parent."

"Like you'd know what that was, right?" While Charles' tone was light, playful, he realized the words had been harsh. 

Charles began to stutter out an apology, but Erik only waved a hand. 

"It's alright. Just... don't mention my mother or father like that again, or I will be upset."

"Of course."

They walked to the end of the hall in a comfortable silence, Erik's hands in his pockets and Charles' hanging at his side.

Charles opened the door, and luckily enough, it opened into sunlight and the smell of roses.

"So they can afford to keep a garden alive, but not a simple chess board?" Erik chastised as the door shut behind them, stopping before the afore mentioned garden. "I will never understand the American government and their poor decisions." This was said under his breath, his eyebrows pulling together to scowl at the plants.

Charles perked up, a small smile forming on his lips.

"You play chess?" He opted to ignore the comment about the American Government.

Erik looked back to Charles. 

"As a matter of fact, I do. Haven't in far too long, but yes."

"Well," Charles said, tilting his head and smiling, "we'll have to play sometime."

"Yes, I suppose we shall." 

Simple conversations were easy with Erik; Charles didn't feel the normal pressure of trying to appease the other person, didn't feel as if he had to act like a different person or put on a smile that he didn't mean. When he smiled around Erik, he truly couldn't help himself. The man made his heart soar in a way Charles was unfamiliar with. It wasn't the kind of affection he felt towards Raven, who he viewed as family. It wasn't the kind of affection one would feel towards an acquaintance or a friend, and Charles' head was spinning with what that might mean.

Erik cleared his throat, smiling smugly and shaking his head. The two had been holding eye contact for at least thirty seconds to a minute.

"Well, I'm going to go pester your sister. Wish me luck."

Charles nodded, turning and watching as Erik went back into the stuffy metal building.

ii.

Charles was smiling, energetically opening a hotel room door. They were following an address from Cerebro, the first one that had been clear enough to Charles to read. 

The hotel was fancy, to say the least. Charles had gone all out, renting a room that was two times the size of the ones Erik would normally spend a night in. The room, fancy and decked out as it may be(it had a color television!) had only one bed. Apparently, Charles had overlooked that small detail when choosing the room. 

Erik was carrying the bags, so as soon as he stepped into the room he dropped them to the plush carpet. 

Glancing around, he saw a television playing some type of news broadcast, a king sized bed, a bathroom that could fit a dance floor, and intricacies that Erik didn't even know the English name for. The curtains were white and lacy, but they were rather opaque, which was good. There was a balcony with two chairs and a table, and Erik could feel a small metal ashtray sitting on it. 

They had gotten a few dirty looks and scowls on their way up here, and a nose-scrunch from the lady with the key, who undoubtedly knew the room only had one bed. Erik is sure that had they gone anywhere else or bought any other room, they would have been denied service because of their silly assumptions(he supposes they didn't because it was a very expensive room and Charles was paying for three full days).Erik kept calling them that, in his head; just assumptions. There was no truth behind it.

Charles had already situated himself on the mattress, leaning back on his arms, smiling that brilliant smile of his. Charles' eyes were a magnificent blue, shining a simply sinful aqua. Erik knew that Charles' eyes were brighter during Cerebro, almost unnaturally so. He knew they were sharp and cobalt when he was focused, soft and nearly turquoise when he was looking at Raven, his eyes always full of adoration. 

Charles had different smiles too, but he found he always got nearly the same one-- bright eyes and a big, brilliant smile that always made Erik's heart do a double take. 

This was one of the big, brilliant ones, as per usual. His eyes were bright as ever, and the man was grinning like a psychopath had just found a rave.

Erik gave a gentle smile, picking up the bags and moving them to a cushioned chair in a far corner of the room. There was a couch here too, Erik noted. He looked back to Charles, who had turned on the bed to face Erik, his legs folded into a criss cross.

"I can sleep on the couch, you can take the bed." Was the first thing Erik said, adjusting one of the pillows on said couch.

"Nonsense," Charles said, his brilliant smile replaced with his resting smile. "I didn't buy a room with a king sized bed if you were meant to sleep on a couch, Erik. There' more than enough room for the both of us."

It wasn't that Erik had a problem with sharing beds--he didn't, at all. Growing up, he was on cold floors and rough carpets, and before that he slept in the same bed as his sister, because his parents couldn't afford to buy a second bed. Not exactly the Jewish stereotype. 

It was that this was Charles. 

Charles Xavier, the man who had saved his life, who only looked at him with kindness and something Erik couldn't name. Charles, who Erik had not-exactly-heterosexual feelings for, Charles, who was certainly straight, Charles, the man who Erik wanted to kiss and hold and never let go. 

Assumptions. Assumptions, because these things were not true. Things like this simply weren't accepted. Weren't allowed. 

Erik, realizing all of this and not seeing Charles gracefully stand from the bed, took in a sharp intake of breath when Charles grabbed his hand and put two fingers on Erik's cheek.

Charles was smiling, but this was a different smile. It wasn't one he gave Raven, or Moira, or Hank. His lips were in a small, gentle, almost skittish smile, the look in his eyes something Erik couldn't place. 

"Come to bed, Erik," Charles whispered, and this was far too domestic, God, this was far too much of something Erik hadn't realized he'd wanted. "Please?" And God, how could Erik say no to that? How was he supposed to say no to baby blue eyes and a voice like silk? 

"Alright." So Erik wrapped his fingers around Charles' and the look on Charles face made it worth it. It would have made anything worth it. 

"Wait," Charles said, putting the hand that had been on Erik's cheek on Erik's chest, and he stopped. Charles pursed his lips, looking down. "There's something I've been wanting to do," He was speaking slowly, and Erik knew where this was going(a part of his brain was telling him that Charles was going to ask him to leave, but the rational side said something entirely different). 

It was Erik's turn to put a hand on Charles' face, tilting his chin up to look him in the eyes.

They would have been, at least, if Erik wasn't looking at Charles' lips rather than his eyes. Charles sucked in a breath, lips parting ever so slightly, and Erik went for it. 

He leaned down slightly, hand still on Charles' chin, and pressed his lips to Charles'. It was gentle, and neither of them moved for at least three seconds. It was Charles who moved first: his lips moved and then his hand went from Erik's chest to his neck, holding him there, like Charles' thought Erik would step away from this, from him. Right now, Erik couldn't think of anything worse.

Charles pulled away first, and Erik leaned down enough to rest his forehead on Charles'. Charles had a soft, open mouthed smile like he was in awe of something; Erik dared to let himself think he was the reason for it. 

Well, you wouldn't be wrong. 

Charles' voice was clear as a bell in Erik's mind, and he almost jolted in surprise. 

Sorry, you were thinking rather loudly -- and at such proximity, it's rather hard not to hear you.

Erik, momentarily forgetting that Charles was speaking in his head, tried to cut him off with a kiss; while Charles stumbled over his words, he kept going. 

"It's alright," Erik whispered against Charles' lips, smiling soon after. Erik went back to kissing him, hoping that Charles would stop talking and kiss him back. 

As if he had heard his thoughts,(he probably had, truth be told) Charles chuckled and kissed him, his lips moving slowly, like he was treading on a frozen river. 

Erik moved his hand to cup Charles' cheek, his thumb resting on his cheekbone. The hand that had been wrapped in Charles' was now on his hip, pulling the smaller man closer. Erik thought that he could kiss Charles forever. He thinks that yes, yes he would give up everything for this man in a heartbeat. He would give up Shaw, give up his hatred and rage just to stay like this, kissing him, loving him. 

Loving him.

Yes, Erik thinks he loves him. Erik thinks, at least, that he can love him. 

Erik will not admit to himself, or anyone else, that it scares him.

"How about that bed?" Charles asks, his eyes wide and his lips pulled into a smile.

"I think that bed is a lovely idea."

So if the two of them end up tangled together in the night, Erik's arm splayed across Charles and their legs intertwined, they don't talk about it in the morning. 

iii.

They're in a club. There are women and men, except it is only the men who are being disgraceful. It is the men who show up here, fawning over half-naked women, throwing money at clothes that shouldn't have to be shed. 

Erik doesn't like places like this; they are loud and full of people,(disgusting people at that) and this is the sort of this Erik normally avoids at all costs. Charles doesn't seem to mind, but Erik is sure he isn't too happy about the idiotic, sex driven men here either. 

They're only here because there's supposedly a mutant woman with wings who works here. When Charles had told him about this specific mutant, he wasn't sure if he was quite on board with it. Wings; impressive, sure, but useful against Shaw? Not so much. 

But of course, Erik came anyway. Charles was his best company, and if he didn't go, he'd be stuck back at the CIA base with Raven. And that was not something he wanted to do.

So, here they were. Charles had her name and had called her over with a 10. She was exquisite, Erik had to admit. Thin, tall, artfully tanned skin and jet-black hair with chocolatey brown eyes. Her name was Angel, and Erik almost laughed at how ironic it was. Granted, it was her stage name, but still.

Charles looked over at Erik as she walked over, smiling and then pursing his lips. If Erik could read minds, he would be sure that Charles was thinking something obscene at the moment. It wasn't hard to tell, though: Charles' cheeks always went red, his hands started tapping or fidgeting with something, his eyes darkened and he bit or pursed his lips more than usual. Currently, Charles was doing 3 out of the four things: all but fidgeting. Probably because they were in a public place, and although Erik was sure Charles is never aware of his little quirks, his subconscious must recognize that this would be an odd place to get fidgety at. 

Charles calmly set the bill onto the platform, and as she leaned down to pick it up, Erik pulled out a 50 and held it up. 

"That'll get you a private show, Daddio." 

Erik and Charles looked at each other then, matching smug looks on their faces. Angel pointed to the room behind them, which had one-way glass, telling them that she'd meet them in there in 5 minutes.

Erik and Charles stood, and Erik slung an arm around Charles' shoulder as they walked. 

Leaning down to whisper in his ear, Erik said, "If we were alone, we could have a lot more fun in that room." 

Erik felt Charles shiver, and he smiled at the shorter man's reaction. 

"Erik, we're in public," Charles whispered back, shrugging out from Erik's arm. "At least wait to talk like that until we're in a hotel." Charles gave a small smile, opening the door for Erik to walk through. 

"Thank you, good sir." He teased as he stepped into the room.

It had a large bed, a champagne bucket, and an absurd red wall. 

"Now I suppose we wait?" Charles said, sitting down and leaning back against the wall. 

"Three minutes." Erik sat down beside him, turning himself to kiss him. 

Charles turned his head into the kiss, letting out a small hum of surprise. The pair had agreed to take things slow; kissing and cuddling were about the extent of what they'd done(So what if they might have been half naked a couple times? It was still just kissing).

Erik pulled away, and the door opened once he had situated himself again. Charles was only mildly flustered. Erik threw a wink at Charles, and Angel smiled at them.

"You know it'll cost double for both of you, right?"

iv.

"Oh my god, Erik," Charles said, breathless, his laughter ringing in Erik's ears. 

They were outside of the Westchester mansion, in what Charles called a backyard(although it was more like a forest, but Erik didn't comment on it). Erik had led Charles here, behind a large tree that had so much foliage and such a thick base, Erik didn't know how he hadn't thought of it before; or, rather, how Charles hadn't.

"The children are inside; in the kitchen. The spoons are moving. I think they're having cereal." Erik chuckled, his hands on Charles' face and tucking his hair behind his ear. 

"They'll come looking for us, Erik," Charles cautioned, although there was no worry in his voice, just joy and something Erik swore was affection. 

Erik leaned down again, his lips right at Charles' ear and whispered, "Let them." 

This only caused Charles to laugh again, which made Erik laugh, and when they kissed they were still laughing and their teeth knocked together, but it was alright. It was, in Erik's mind, perfect. How could it not be? Charles was here, laughing with him, they were kissing, and he was happy. Charles was too, and he felt his heart swell when he let himself think he could be part of the reason. 

Charles felt a type of lightness around Erik; it was different than how he felt around anyone else, a sort of contentment that he was sure only Erik could provide. He felt happier, he felt as if he was walking on air rather than solid ground. He found himself wishing he was around whenever he wasn't, and wishing he wouldn't go when he did; even if it was just down the hall to go to sleep. 

Charles felt, certainly, that Erik was the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Yes, they disagreed(rather often, really) and yes they fought. Of course they did. Sometimes Charles would wake up the next morning after one of their disputes and his throat would be sore from yelling. Disagreement was expected; they grew up with totally different lives, were raised in practical polar opposites. So no, it wasn't a surprise when they fought. 

What was a surprise, really, was how quickly they could patch it up. The next morning, the next hour; Every time, one or both of them realized that their own ideals were flawed and that they shouldn't shoot down the other for it. 

Either way, it always ended with a kiss and a game of chess, occasionally a night spent in the other's room with a locked door. 

Yes, Charles had to admit: it was not a totally healthy relationship. Sure. Becuase yes, they fought, and they swore, and they yelled. But it was never out of hatred for the other, a hand was never laid on each other, and they always, always apologized. They always found a resolution, always felt guilty for yelling. Neither of them threw anything, neither of them slammed down a hand or punched a wall. It was never, ever violent. 

So, yes, unhealthy, because they yelled and swore and fought often. But really, in Charles' book, it wasn't that bad. Not picturesque, not perfect in other's eyes, but functional. At the end of the day, neither of them were injured, and they were both happy. They both loved each other. 

So when Charles felt his back pressed against hard bark, felt Erik smiling against his collar bone and pulling his shirt up, it was perfect. Perfect for them. And really, that was all the mattered, wasn't it?

And yes, Charles decided later that day, this was his favorite tree. 

v.

Shaw was dead. 

Erik's mission, his reason for ever being here, was finished; done; gone. 

There were men on boats, good men, innocent men, and they were firing missiles. At them. At the beach. At four minors and four adults. The CIA was unresponsive, and the men had made up their minds. 

Erik had fired the missiles back at them, and he was still wearing that god forsaken helmet, and Charles wasn't sure how he was going to Erik to stop. He had tried reasoning with him, even tried to take the helmet off, to no avail. He urged the others not to move, not to try anything. He had to put their safety above all else(a part of a Charles' mind realizes that this is what Erik is doing, too. Protecting the children, protecting Charles; he is not only trying to protect himself. Charles is sure that Erik wasn't really thinking about his own safety right now, and that tore at Charles' heart more than anything).

And then Moira started shooting. 

He heard the gun lead first, and then the bullets. And Erik was turned towards her now, and the missiles were still going, and she was still shooting, shooting, shooting--

A scream. For a moment, Charles didn't feel it; didn't recognize that the scream was his own, didn't feel the pain of the bullet in his back. And then he was crashing down, and yes, he felt it then; the sharp jerk as his knees hit the sand, and he felt it. 

He saw Erik first; the look of shock, fear, guilt; and he watched as Erik ran towards him, throwing the helmet off and near the water. He felt arms around him, and he was being laid down. He felt Erik's heart racing, felt his hands shaking; and the bullet was gone, but the pain was still there. There was nothing Erik could do to take that away. 

Charles could hear the litany of thoughts running through Erik's mind, and the guilt he felt coming from him was stifling. 

All my fault. My fault. Ruin everything I touch. What did I do? What have I done? Oh god, no, no, no. 

There was a stream of something distinctly Hebrew, and Charles realized with a jolt that Erik must be praying. 

Charles did not like being the source of these thoughts; they were all things Erik associated with losing the people he loves, thoughts that recognized from multiple occasions: his father's, mother's, and sister's deaths. Every time, without fail, these exact thoughts had run on a loop.

Charles' ears were ringing, and he barely heard Erik say, "Back off." and then quieter, to him, "I'm so sorry." then again to Moira, "I said back off!"

Charles didn't hear much, didn't quite realize what was happening until he was Erik's arm outstretched, and heard Moira choking. 

Charles is not sure why he says what he does; what ever kind of impulse that makes him say it, but he does: 

"She didn't do this, Erik. You did."

And oh, god. Erik's eyes snapped down to him, and Charles felt a tremendous was of myfaultmyfaultmyfault, no, no, im sorry, I didn't mean to, no, please no, not Charles, anything but Charles, and Charles swears he will regret it for the rest of life. 

And Erik stops immediately, his arm on Charles again, and his hands are still shaking, and Charles can't -- he can't even feel his legs, but that's not important, not right now; not right now.

"We want the same things, you and I," Erik says, and his voice is shaking in a way Charles has never heard it before. And then, quieter, looking him in the eye, "We're lovers, you and I."

"I'm sorry," Charles grinds out, shaking his head once. "But we do not."

And Charles swears, on anything, on anyone he has ever met, that Erik' heart breaks. 

Charles can feel his emotion, and Erik is-- Erik is numb. Charles has never felt Erik like that, never felt him be so overwhelmed that he just stopped. 

Charles thinks back, thinks about the kisses, the hugs, the smiles and the laughter. 

"I love you, Charles Xavier."

"And I you, Erik Lehnsherr."

"You're adorable. I love it; I love you."

"I'm not adorable, Erik!"

"Lilac makes your eyes pop. I love your eyes."

"You have the most magnificent eyes, Charles Xavier."

"God, you are extraordinary."

"I love you. I love you, I love you, I think I will always love you."

So when Erik stands, and he leaves, Raven with him, Charles understands the numb that Erik had to feel to do so.

+1

Over the years, after Erik had left and gone off the grid, Charles hated. 

He hated, and hated, and hated some more. 

At first, he was numb; he didn't let himself think about how he couldn't walk, or how his sister was gone, or how Erik was gone and now, so was everybody else, except Hank. 

When that stopped working, he was angry. After the anger, it was just pure, blind hatred. Despise. Loathe. 

Charles despised Erik. 

So, when faced to face with him again, seeing his face beside a sprite young mutant with an astounding ability, Charles doesn't know what to do, for a moment. 

And then, soft as a kitten, curious as a cat, Erik says, "Charles?"

And yes, then Charles knows exactly what to do; he punches him, square across the face, and it feels good. For a moment, it feels good, and he still hates him, but it's better because now he knows. He must. Erik must know now that Charles hates him(Charles foolishly didn't think that Erik already thought he did).

And Erik glances up, blood on his fingers, wide eyed, and does nothing. 

Nothing. 

It almost makes him hate him more. 

And God, at the end of the week, after Erik fucking Lehnsherr drops a stadium on him and tries to kill hundreds of people, he doesn't hate him anymore. How that is possible, Charles doesn't know. He doesn't think he ever will.

At the end of it all, Charles doesn't remember how he hated him for so long. 

And yes, with a tale tell, "Goodbye, old friend," Erik is gone, and Charles doesn't hate him, and Charles hates himself for not hating him.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!! this is the first thing im posting to ao3, but you can expect a lot of cherik, supernatural, marvel, and red queen! because im trash :')


End file.
